essed in smiles: the virtue of women should
have all the softness of the sex; it should be gentle, it should be
even playful, to please.

There is a lady here, whom I wish you to see, as the shortest way of
explaining to you all I mean; she is the most pleasing woman I ever
beheld, independently of her being one of the handsomest; her manner is
irresistible: she has all the smiling graces of France, all the
blushing delicacy and native softness of England.

Nothing can be more delicate, my dear Temple, than the manner in
which you offer me your estate in Rutland, by way of anticipating your
intended legacy: it is however impossible for me to accept it; my
father, who saw me naturally more profuse than became my expectations,
took such pains to counterwork it by inspiring me with the love of
independence, that I cannot have such an obligation even to you.

Besides, your legacy is left on the supposition that you are not to
marry, and I am absolutely determined you shall; so that, by accepting
this mark of your esteem, I should be robbing your younger children.

I have not a wish to be richer whilst I am a batchelor, and the only
woman I ever wished to marry, the only one my heart desires, will be in
three weeks the wife of another; I shall spend less than my income
here: shall I not then be rich? To make you easy, know I have four
thousand pounds in the funds; and that, from the equality of living
here, an ensign is obliged to spend near as much as I am; he is
inevitably ruined, but I save money.

I pity you, my friend; I am hurt to hear you talk of happiness in
the life you at present lead; of finding pleasure in possessing venal
beauty; you are in danger of acquiring a habit which will vitiate your
taste, and exclude you from that state of refined and tender friendship
for which nature formed a heart like yours, and which is only to be
found in marriage: I need not add, in a marriage of choice.

It has been said that love marriages are generally unhappy; nothing
is more false; marriages of meer inclination will always be so:
passion alone being concerned, when that is gratified, all tenderness
ceases of course: but love, the gay child of sympathy and esteem, is,
when attended by delicacy, the only happiness worth a reasonable man's
pursuit, and the choicest gift of heaven: it is a softer, tenderer
friendship, enlivened by taste, and by the most ardent desire of
pleasing, which time, instead of destroying, will re